Fan Fiction
by Kurieo Parnok
Summary: Due to a technological glitch, Shockwave and Blitzwing find themselves with in our world and are soon introduced to the horrors of fandom.
1. Welcome to the Real World

**Summary: Blitzwing and Shockwave experienced some technical problems and wind up ported to our world. They soon discover the horrors of fan-dom. Rated for crude humor and brief language.**

**Disclaimer: Cartoon Network and Hasbro owns Transformers Animated. I own the story. Any all additional recognizable songs, culture references, et cetera, belong to their rightful owners.**

**Chapter 1: Welcome to the Real World**

We open with a typical suburbia scene: All the houses look identical with neatly trimmed lawns and differ only in the bright colors that coat the houses, much like the suburbia of Tim Burton's _Edward Scissor Hands_ Children are either away playing at the playground or are in their rooms, playing their video games or watching TV. It is a Saturday morning and teenagers baby sit younger children as their parents are out at work. It's a typical summer morning in suburbia, with absolutely nothing out of the ordinary and everybody is as assuming of this fact as everybody else.

Which is a pity, considering something is about to mess their stuff up.

In the side yard of a blue house a bright flash of purple appeared in the air, turning into a sparkling purple and white hole. From it fell two strange new comers to this realm. First: a one-eyed robot with antennae like a bug, trim and thin, with long, claw-fingers and purple and black in color. He landed on the emerald green, fertilizer-treated lawn on his stomach, face-first. Well, actually, he didn't have a face; just a black expanse with a rather expressive red and yellow optic.

The second figure fell out of the hole just as it was closing and landed on his back on top of the already-fallen person. This person, too, was a robot, light brown, black, and purple in color with guns on his shoulders, jet wings on his back, and dressed up like a German soldier. His blue face stared up at the sky dumbly as the person behind him shifted and groaned in annoyance.

"Blitzwing," the robot beneath him growled, "Will you kindly get your schizophrenic aft _off of me!?_"

The pinned robot shoved himself up, rolling Blitzwing onto the grass. Blitzwing rolled over onto his back on the grass, remaining expressionless and lifeless. The other robot placed a clawed hand to his forehead and shook his head before looking around, sitting on his hands and knees.

"What in the name of Cybertron…?" he muttered. "What is this place? Blitzwing, do you recognize this place?"

When he didn't get an answer, he looked back down at Blitzwing and rolled his sole optic as he sighed in annoyance.

"Well, can't say that I didn't want to do this," he said, positioning himself on his back end with his feet towards Blitzwing's head. "I just have to make sure not to kick your triple-changing head off…"

He struck out with both feet, hitting Blitzwing directly in the side of the head with a loud clang. Something pinged in side of Blitzwing's head and his optics sparked as gears in side clanked and bumped against each other. The one-eyed robot stared at Blitzwing, and then slowly began to inch backwards as Blitzwing began to shake strangely. The image of Blitzwing exploding was drawn up in Shockwave's head.

_I am so dead,_ he thought.

A bang sounded out in Blitzwing and he leaped high into the air as his Cold face was replaced with the red-eyed-and-mouthed, black face of a jack-o-lantern.

"Woo hoo! I'm free!" Random Blitzwing shouted in his German accent.

The other robot leaped to his feet, catching Blitzwing by his ankle and yanked him down to the ground, pinning him there with one hand over his mouth.

"Shut up, Blitzwing!" he hissed, his optic narrowing in annoyance. "We are in unknown territory here! Honestly, why'd you go pressing buttons on the space bridge like that?"

"Hey, you said we needed to leave before the Autobots scum got us, Shockwave," Blitzwing replied, pulling the hand off. "And so I got us out of there!" He looked around. "Ooh, pretty colors!"

"Yes, I can see that, but where the Primus _are_ we!?" Shockwave demanded. "Look at that!"

He pointed across the street to where some human children were playing in the sprinklers of their lawn.

"The humans here are shaped differently, the texture of everything is more defined and weird, and over all, the colors and-and-and _everything_ is different!" Shockwave listed off. "I can't even detect any automatons or Transformers with in _light years_ of us. And look at the size difference; we mustn't be much larger than a head over an average human. Blitzwing, where did you take us!? Blitzwing?"

But when Shockwave turned around, Random Blitzwing was up against the window of the blue house they had landed by, palms on the glass and looking all the world like a child looking into a toy store.

"Blitzwing!" Shockwave hissed, "Are you _listening_ to me?"

"Look, Shockwave, we are on TV!" Blitzwing said happily.

"We're on human television all the time, Blitzwing," Shockwave sighed, rolling his optic in impatient. "We're on human television every time we break something, now come—"

"Ooh, now there you are killing Blur!"

Shockwave stiffened as something in side of him clacked in surprise. No one had been there when he had killed the Autobot agent, he had been sure of it! And yet, it was on TV?

"Let me see," Shockwave snarled, shouldering Blitzwing out of the way.

They fought for space briefly before Shockwave was able to peek into the human room.

It had a turquoise-blue carpet with pale blue walls and a matching deep blue couch and arm chair positioned in front of a TV on a wooden stand. A couple of girls, one six year old with red hair tied in pig tales and a teenager with short, thick, straight blond hair, were sitting in front of the TV. Sure enough, on TV, there was Shockwave pressing the dooming button that would crush the speedy blue Autobot into a cube in the tunnel systems. A foreboding music track was playing in the back ground and camera angles switched frequently in the fashion of a TV show, zooming in on Shockwave's button-pressing claw and Blur as the poor mech was crushed between two walls in a tunnel.

_This is impossible!_ Shockwave thought, his optic widening in shock. _No one could have been there with Blur and just watch him be crushed without my knowledge! But the music and the camera switching; it must mean that this is some sort of show. What money-making fool is making a TV show of our exploits? And where is he getting the information?_

"Susan," the little girl whimpered. "I don't like this part. Can we go back to when Blitzwing is talking about turning the Autobots into tossed salad?"

"Sure, Marie, let's do that," Susan replied, picking up a TV remote and pressing some buttons.

A menu popped up on screen and some choices were made. When it closed out, they were watching Random Blitzwing free-fall through the air, shooting towards the Autobots on the ground.

"Hey! There's me!" Blitzwing whooped loudly.

Shockwave jerked in surprise then whipped his head around to Random Blitzwing, optic flaring scarlet in anger.

"Will you let your Cold side out or shut up?" he hissed. "We must keep a low profile until we know more about this world!"

"I can't," Random Blitzwing replied, his eyes becoming up-pointing half-moons as he beamed cheerfully at Shockwave. "You knocked him out with your kick!"

"Well, wake him _up_ before we're discovered."

"Uh, too _late_, monsieur Shockwave," Blitzwing, looking back into the living room and tapping at the glass.

Sure enough, inside, little Marie and Susan were clinging to each other, staring with dropped jaws and wide eyes at the two Decepticons sitting out side of their window.

_Please don't scream,_ Shockwave thought awkwardly. _Please don't scream._

But both girls _did_ scream…

In _joy._


	2. Fan Fiction

**Disclaimer: Cartoon Network and Hasbro owns Transformers Animated. I own the story. Any all additional recognizable songs, culture references, et cetera, belong to their rightful owners.**

**Chapter 2: Fan Fiction**

"So, you are saying that in this world, the Transformers race as we know it and all its versions are mere workings of some human's imagination manifesting itself in TV cartoons and toys?" Shockwave clarified.

Susan nodded; her mouth pierced shut to hold back another girlish scream of fan-ism, and squeaked affirmatively.

Shockwave and Blitzwing were sitting on the blue couch in the blue living room of the blue house, lured there by the girls' promise not to contact the nearest authorities and a free quart car oil. Shockwave had politely downturned the offer, but Blitzwing was currently and eagerly chugging down the black liquid straight from the bottle. Sarah and Mari sat on the living room carpet in front of the couch, the TV off behind them, both with their legs tucked under them. Their mouths pursed shut to hold back any more audio receptor-shattering fan girl screams. Both were shaking like phones on vibrate with barely suppressed actions and energy. Shockwave was seriously considering taking this conversation outside and talking to them from opposite sides of the street to avoid any explosions on the girls' behalf.

"Hmmm, so that means we have no need to worry about Autobots attacking us?" Shockwave commented, rubbing his chin.

Both girls nodded and squeaked out their confirmation.

"Well this is _excellent_!" Shockwave said, standing up. "With no Autobots to stand in our way, the Decepticons could easily crush this planet and take all its resources! Blitzwing, get us back to our Earth and inform Megatron of this!"

Random Blitzwing sucked up the last bit of oil from its bottle before crushing it and tossing it aside, burping as he did.

"Can't," he stated, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

"What do you mean 'can't'?" Shockwave asked.

"We have no space bridge," Blitzwing replied. "You can't go from spacebridge to spacebridge with only one spacebridge, and if there are no Transformers here, there is no spacebridge! Tell me, little one," Blitzwing said, bending over to pick up Marie. "What is your name?"

"Marie Walker," the little girl said. "And I'm one of your biggest fans! I own your toy and pictures of you and everything!"

"Really, now?" Blitzwing replied, his face twisting into a nervous mask of a smile, "Toys and pictures and everything?"

Sarah, the elder child, shook her head, apparently finally getting a leash on her fan girl side.

"Don't worry, she only has the toy and a tee shirt with a Decepticon insignia on it," she said, standing up and going over to pick up the discarded oil bottle. "I don't have anything of the Transformers merchandise myself; I'd be teased about being a childish nerd and stuff like that at school. I do, how ever, have an extensive collection of on line Transformers stories, video clips, music, and pictures, three quarters of which is created by fans."

"Ooh, we have many fans?" Blitzwing asked, dropping Mari on the couch as he stood up.

"A lot," Sarah said, nodding. "But, um," a blush came to her pale cheeks. "Some are really _messed up_. For example—"

"You talk too much," Mari interrupted.

"Blitzwing, we can't dawdle on this stupid franchise and its fans," Shockwave said. "We have to find a way to get back to Lord Megatron!"

"Oh shut up and enjoy yourself, Shocker Boy!" Blitzwing said, slapping Shockwave on the shoulder. "Hey, maybe I can teach some one some dance moves!"

"Fine!" Shockwave snarled his optic flaring red in anger again. "You go ahead and look at these organics' stupid fetishes while _I_ try figuring out a way back to our base. But if your _saner_ side wakes up, _please_ send him to me."

"Come on, Blitzwing!" Marie said, running upstairs. "This way, this way!"

Sarah followed them, probably to make sure that Marie didn't attack the Decepticon in a foaming mass of fan girl instincts. After a few minutes in which no sound could be heard from up stairs, whether it be fan girl screech or screams of terror, Shockwave nervously followed them. The second level of the home was small, but unusually shaped; a hall way just barely wide enough for Shockwave to squeeze through he scrunched his shoulders tightly or tilted them. There were two doors on his left, one on his right. Across from the second door on the left, the hallway suddenly turned right and out of sight. All the doors were shut except the one on his right. He peeked into it.

Inside was a bedroom with reddish pink walls and red carpeting with a matching red bed tucked in the corner and a red wood wardrobe across the corner from the bed. Beside the bed, between the door and the bed, was a computer station complete with a printer, the typical computer set up, and a tower of computer games and music CDs. All spare shelving of the computer station structure was filled with magazines, books, and binders stuffed to the brim with pictures and papers. Susan was sitting at the computer, dully clicking around on the computer. One wouldn't have been able to tell that she had just met two fictional characters.

She glanced up when she noticed Shockwave staring into her room, then continued to her attendance on the computer. Shockwave ran a bio-scan and saw this: She was actually incredibly excited and even fearful of her house guests, but she was trying to play it cool (and doing it rather well, in Shockwave's opinion).

"Where are Mari and Blitzwing?" Shockwave asked.

"In Marie's room, right across the hall, playing" Sarah replied.

"What are you doing?" Shockwave asked.

"Checking up on the latest Trans Fan stories," was the reply.

Shockwave walked over to stand behind Sarah. The list of stories had rather drawl names and even drawler summaries; the titles had a noun with an adjective to describe them and the summaries read like an old-fashioned, low-grade movie summary, ending with childishly eager questions like "Will Optimus defeat Megatron?" and "Will she be able to find true love?"

"I fail to see the point in writing such tales," Shockwave said. "If copy rights already belong to another human, then they can not obtain money or power through mimicking of the copy righted item. Do people even _read_ these tales?"

"First of all," Sarah began. "Yes, people _do_ read them. Second; to post a story on the internet, or _anywhere_, and receive positive reviews is a way of earning respect and showing off one's writing abilities. It's more complicated than you think, and takes an inborn ability, or a well-practiced one, to make a good story, _especially_ when you're writing a story about an already-existing one. First of all, you have to make sure the characters all behave in their original characters without making them a 'Mary Sue', or a character that's too perfect or has been changed for the story and is now out of character…"

Shockwave tuned her out and brushed her hand off of the mouse, taking control of it to begin browsing the computer.

"The next thing an author has to make sure of is the balance of the relationship between characters, events, and their environment…"

Maybe he could contact Megatron through e-mail? He had heard rumors of in-the-field Decepticon spies contacting him that way.

"Third is the pure basics that shouldn't be too difficult if you're slowing down enough to re-read your stories, or at least have an editor on hand with good English and Literature grades; grammar and spelling…"

Nope, no, no Decepticon contacts there. By the way, how _did_ people receive the Decepticons in this realm? Following this thought, Shockwave brought up the web site Sarah had been looking at."

"Forth is probably the most difficult part of all: A unique plot…"

_Oh good Primus,_ Shockwave thought, looking over the summaries. _Exactly how many of these people are depressed? It seems like everyone here is talking about regret and "deeper feelings". What deeper feelings? You kill some one and they die, simple as that! _

"It's one of the star-marked lessons in Writing 101; it doesn't how many times it's been done into a cliché: If you make it look good, no one cares! Hell, look at Disney and the princess formulae! Everyone is a pretty princess with a sucky life and every one gets whisked away to happily ever after by the Prince Charming at the end of the story. Personally, I think the Prince Charming is a slut for picking up every princess…"

While Sarah had launched into her long lesson on fan fiction and writing, her specialty, Shockwave had reached around her and continued scanning the list of titles and their summaries on the web site she was on; Fan Fiction. Net. They were all rather dull, except…

"There are a lot of Decepticon stories," he noted, somewhat in approval.

"Oh, yeah," Sarah said, breaking out of the Don't Do's of fiction writing. "I don't know about humans in your universe, but here, people kind of always root for the bad guys, it seems. Not sure why, to be truthful," Sarah said, her motor mouth going off again. "Maybe it's because we think the bad guys need help when the good guys are getting all the attention in their world. Maybe it's because bad guys are almost always funnier than the good guys. Maybe it's even because the bad guys represent everything we want to do, but can't because of morals and rules; the bad guys represent an escape into adventure and out of the bonds that are tied around us to keep us from becoming wild and unruly…"

Shockwave looked at Sarah in a way that clearly stated that he wanted her to shut up. She obeyed and looked around for something else to do… or to talk to. Suddenly, one particular title caught Shockwave's attention:_ A Delicious Touch of the Morbid_

Hmm, _that_ sounded interesting.

"What's that one?" Shockwave asked, tapping on the glass just over the title that caught his attention.

"Oh, that's just a slash story," Sarah replied.

"Slash?" Shockwave asked. "What's that?"

A mischievous glint came to Sarah's eye as she opened the story up and slid her chair to the side. She had noticed that it was a Shockwave X Megatron pairing in the summary.

"Why don't you look?" she asked.

Shockwave read it. Exactly five seconds later, his optic bulged and his antennae stood straight up with a click. He continued staring at the computer blankly.

"Slash," Sarah stated. "Is a style of fan fiction in which two male characters are engaged in a completely sexual relationship. In case you're wondering, yes, people _do_ read this… _all the time_."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Shockwave closed the window out. Then he accessed the computer's files and completely whipped out all Internet memory. Then he made sure that no story containing the word "slash" or any other such related words could never be accessed on that computer ever again from the Internet. Then he slowly turned to Susan, the blank look still in his optic.

"Where is your shower?" he asked blandly.

"Second door on the left," Susan replied, tilting her head to the side as she stared curiously at Shockwave's face.

"Thank you," Shockwave stated.

Susan followed him out of the room and into the hall. Once he got into the bathroom, though, he slammed the door shut behind himself and locked it. A minute later, the shower began to run.


	3. Injured Honor

**Disclaimer: Cartoon Network and Hasbro owns Transformers Animated. I own the story. Any all additional recognizable songs, culture references, et cetera, belong to their rightful owners.**

**Chapter 3: Insulted Honor**

Susan went to check on Marie and Blitzwing and found the little girl dancing with Random Blitzwing in her pink-based room, often throwing stuffed animals down from their shelves on the wall for the fun of it. One rag doll rabbit smacked her in the face as she entered the room.

The song playing was _Peanut Butter Jelly Time_ by the Buckwheat Boys, and one knows once they've listened to it how that annoying song is, but how it's ever oh so catchy to dance to.

"Then you shake your hips, shake your hips, like this," Blitzwing was saying, demonstrating his words. "Good! Good! Then we twirl like a ballerina on one foot; ta daa! Good girl! I like you; you catch on like a monkey trying to get to the fruit paste on my face."

"Say what?" Susan asked, stopping her stupid dancing for a moment to look at Blitzwing.

That was when _Peanut Butter Jelly Time_ ended and _You Belong with Me_ by Taylor Swift turned on.

The girls cheered in approval and began to sing along to it, although whether or not they were in tune or not is open for discussion. Blitzwing stopped short of his dancing, his face twisting up in confusion as the girls danced around, singing the song. Shrugging, he joined the dancing too, singing something in German that matched the tune of the song. He had quite a lovely deep singing voice that most defiantly did not match his current personality; maybe Hot Head, or Cold, if he was _really_ emotional, but coming from Random, it was just weird. But, according to Marie, he "sang like the kindest angel of heaven whilst enwrapping you with in his large, muscular arms and his magnificent wings enwrapped both of you to protect from prying eyes with their feathery wall of protection while his lips slowly approach yours".

Susan realized that Marie was screwed up.

Susan broke away from the song when she heard a thump from the bathroom.

"I'll be back," she said before departing.

"Oh, Blitzwing, you're such a good singer!" Mari cooed.

Susan ducked back in briefly to scold, "Mind your own species, Mari," then she _really_ departed.

Outside the bathroom door, she knocked and called, "Shockwave? Are you okay in there?"

"Need hotter water," was the short reply, then no more.

When Shockwave came out of the shower an hour later, Random Blitzwing was teaching the girls to do the Cha, Cha.

"And then," Blitzwing was saying, dropping to one knee and spreading his arms out. "You jump into the arms of your male partner and say 'ta daa!!"

"Ta daa!" Mari and Susan declared. Each jumped into his arms and wrapped one arm around Blitzwing's neck each while spreading the other up in show.

Shockwave blinked once in almost expressionless surprise (key word: Almost. Even the one-optic robot couldn't keep the emotions out sometimes, like that stalker next door…). Then he pointed at Blitzwing with one claw dramatically while the other held up a mint green towel around his waist.

"Pedophile," was all he said.

Blitzwing's face changed to that of Hot Head, who dropped his arms and jaw as he stared at Shockwave. Shockwave ignored him as he walked down the stairs out of sight. Hot Head Blitzwing pushed the girls away and charged down the stairs after the Decepticon to find him in the kitchen, setting up the coffee pot. The walls were light blue, the counters were sky blue, and the hard, shiny, polish counter top was dark blue. There was an island counter in the center of the kitchen.

"I am not a pedophile!" Hot Head Blitzwing roared.

"That's not what I saw back there," Shockwave replied. He looked over at Susan and Mari as they came down the stairs. "Where do you keep your oil? I would like to have some now."

"I'll get it!" Mari said eagerly, streaking out of the room.

"Take it back! I was teaching the girls how to dance like good girls!" Blitzwing yelled at Shockwave. He slammed his fists on the dark blue counter top, cracking it severely, to punctuate his defense.

"Woha! Woha! Woha!" Susan exclaimed as Mari zipped back into the room and handed Shockwave a bottle of oil. "Take it out on Shockwave, not the house!"

"I will take 'it' out on what ever I want, including _you_, and including this house!" Blitzwing roared into Susan's face. Some of her hair moved back in the wind of his roar.

Shockwave realized that the coffee maker would not warm up his oil. He took the coffee mug Mari had taken down for him when she saw him using the coffee maker and poured some oil into the mug. He put the mug in the microwave to warm up and turned back to Blitzwing, crossing his arms and ankles easily.

"Oh no, you won't!" Susan snarled in response to Hot Head's declaration.

"Why ever not; what's going to stop me?" Hot Head Blitzwing growled, towering over the girl. His shoulder cannons started emitting small balls of flame.

"Because _I'm _not going to explain to my dad how the house got burned to the ground by a fictional inner dimension jumping, schizophrenic, bad guy, triple changing, ice-shooting, fire-blasting, red-eyed, German-decent, Nazi-born, foul-tempered transforming alien robot while he was throwing a _tantrum_!" Susan snarled.

"Yeah: The insurance company would _never_ buy it," Mari commented.

The microwave made a _beep_ noise and Shockwave opened the door, taking out his mug of hot oil and sipping it… in spite of a lack of a mouth.

"You know, Blitzwing," Shockwave commented. "It is sad that you must resort to arguing with little girls to establish your manliness."

"Manliness?" Blitzwing asked, walking around the island. "Look who's talking about manliness when he's covering up like he has any!"

In one swift motion, Hot Head Blitzwing yanked the towel off from around Shockwave's waist. Susan wanted to yell at them for indecent exposure in front of Mari, a minor, but managed to stave off a blush when she saw and remembered that Shockwave had nothing of shame to show the little girl below the waist. The way Mari's eyes brightened up in approval and anticipation, though… Susan would have to talk to her about that.

"It was to soak up any water coming off of me," Shockwave informed Blitzwing, even as he sipped his mug of oil (how did he _do_ that??).

"Right," Hot Head Blitzwing sneered, throwing the towel down on the counter. "And I'm Mr. America."

"Who would let _that_ ugly face into a beauty patent?" Susan laughed.

"Hey! Don't tease Blitzwing like that!" Mari scolded. "Blitzwing is smart _and_ hansom!"

"As smart and hansom as a pug-faced mop of a _lap dog_," Susan snorted. "Shockwave doesn't _have_ a face and he's prettier than Blitzwing! And on top of that, Shockwave's ranked _way_ higher than Blitzwing in the brains department."

"Shockwave's a pompous butt head!" Mari snarled.

"Blitzwing's a schizophrenic idiot!" Susan replied.

Shockwave and Blitzwing exchanged glances, realizing that the girls were fighting for one or the other of the Decepticons' honor. They both smiled slyly at each other (at least Hot Head did; Shockwave's optic _looked_ like he was smiling), and Hot Head changed to Random as they both looked back at the girls, their argument only increasing in heat.

"Shockwave's so dumb that he didn't think to _assassinate_ some mechs while he was among the Autobots!" Mari declared.

"Perhaps he hadn't been _ordered_ to assassinate some Autobots as he was on a strictly _informative_ stance only?" Susan hissed.

"Yeah, and he's so stupid he can _only_ follow orders that are given to him on a huge white paper with giant black letters! At least _Blitzwing_ saw an opportunity when it came to him."

"Blitzwing couldn't follow a mission through if it were to save his own aft."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah"

"Fight!" the Decepticons both yelled.

Right on cue, the girls tackled each other and fell into a wrestling mass of limbs. Both Decepticons jumped onto the counters to give them floor room and cheered them on as they rolled around and around.

"Ooh! I think the little one is biting the bigger one!" Random Blitzwing exclaimed. "Nibble, little one, nibble like a rabid Japanese hamster!"

"You're bigger than her!" Shockwave yelled at Susan. "Just kick her head around like a soccer ball! Like a soccer ball, I said, not a football!"

"Go for the throat! Go for the throat! Right! Right there!"

"Punch her head with your left fist; there's a rather sharp shard of counter top you can stab her with near your right hand!"

But both the girls fell apart, panting heavily, and the Decepticons whined.

"Oh, blast it!" Shockwave whimpered, raising a hand and dropping it hopelessly.

"Aw, why'd you stop?" Blitzwing whined. "You were just getting to the blood shed!"

"As much as I would like to, I can't kill her because then my dad would _murder me_," Susan panted, looking up at the Decepticons.

"I'll murder you if you don't do it," Shockwave said, as if _that_ were going to help.

It didn't.

"Come on, Mari," Susan said, completely dissing Shockwave's authority and standing up, holding a hand out to the little girl. "Let's go back to watching TV."

"Yay! TV!" Mari exclaimed happily, taking the hand up and bouncing over to the living room.

They left the Decepticons behind to sit on the counters, looking fairly put out. Blitzwing sighed and shook his head, watching them go. He looked over at Shockwave as he sipped at his mug of oil.

"Hey, can I have some?" he asked, holding a hand out.

"Get your own… pedophile," Shockwave replied.

Susan jumped and flinched when she heard the crash of metal on linoleum as one of the Decepticons hit the floor, then an idea popped into her head.

"Hey, Blitzwing!" she yelled into the kitchen. "Wanna go see some Transformers toys?"

Hot Head Blitzwing looked at her from where he was standing in the kitchen, holding Shockwave (with his mug of oil) over his head as if he were about to throw the spy down on the ground in a sort of body bomb slam. After a moment, he shrugged and dropped Shockwave, who landed hard on the floor in a very awkward position in a succeeded effort to keep one drop of oil from spilling.

"Okay," Hot Head said, shrugging.


	4. WalMart

**Disclaimer: Cartoon Network and Hasbro owns Transformers Animated. I own the story. Any all additional recognizable songs, culture references, et cetera, belong to their rightful owners.**

**Chapter 4: Wal-Mart**

"There you go," Susan said, setting a fedora on Blitzwing's head properly. "Now no one will be able to tell what you are."

Random Blitzwing looked down at himself, as he was now clad in a large black over coat with a matching fedora. His shoulder guns and wings had been folded into him to make the coat fit. He tipped the edge of his hat up slightly as he looked at himself in confusion.

"Why must I wear this?" he asked.

"Because you want to see where people buy Transformers merchandise and if you go outside without being disguised, people are going to go nuts," Susan replied. "Now try speaking without sounding like a robot."

"Like this?" Blitzwing asked. He still sounded German, but he had lowered his voice and somehow managed to remove the electronic buzz in it.

"Good. Now just don't talk and you'll do fine," Susan said.

"I look ridiculous," Blitzwing whined.

"You look like a shady man hanging around a van with candy," Shockwave stated, "Which is fitting."

Hot Head replaced Random and stepped towards Shockwave, shaking a fist as he gritted his teeth in anger. "Why you little--!"

"Shockwave, don't hurt Mari while I'm gone," Susan said, grabbing Blitzwing's other hand and pulling him out the door. "Mari; if he tries to hurt you, run, okay?"

"Yes _mom_," Mari said sarcastically. "I'll run for my pathetic little life in case Shockwave wants to turn me into a bug or something."

"A bug…?" Shockwave asked quietly, looking at the much shorter girl.

"And don't rape him!"

"Okay," Mari replied.

_"WHAT!?"_ Shockwave screamed.

"Good girl, bye!" Susan called, running out the door with Blitzwing.

Shockwave stared at the door for several moments then looked down at Mari. She looked back up with large, shiny, green puppy eyes. Shockwave rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he looked around.

"So, um…" He looked down at her. "What do _you_ wish to do?"

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Ooh! What _is_ this magnificent cache of supplies, weapons, slaves, and everything a

Decepticon could ever dream of called again?" Blitzwing asked.

"Wal-Mart?" Susan asked, raising an eye brow at him.

"Ah! I love it! I love it!" Blitzwing whooped, spinning around on one foot. "It is magnificent! It is beautiful! It is amazing!" He actually sniffled and wiped a tear away from his eye. "It is a dream come true!"

"It's just the largest, cheapest shop in town," Susan said, rolling her eyes. "And knock that off; you're embarrassing yourself!"

"But I can not help it! Look! Look!" he ran over to one aisle and pointed down it. "Hardware, including drills to put into the soft brains of puny humans! And here!" He ran over to another aisle. "Office supplies; paste a mech to the wall, with duct tape! Lots and lots and lots and lots of duct tape!"

_This is gonna be a __long__ trip,_ Susan thought miserably as Blitzwing ran down the office supplies aisle.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"This is the remake of the _Transformers_ movie," Mari said, popping in a DVD in the TV before sitting down on the couch beside Shockwave. "The plot kinda sucks, but the robots are _so_ cool."

"Am I in it?" Shockwave asked.

"Nope."

"How about Blitzwing?"

"Nah, just shut up and watch the movie…"

- - - - - - - - - - -

A little boy was in Wal-Mart, looking bored enough to whack his head into the numerous rugs his mother was staring at and looked around, hoping to see someone he knew that could take him away from the boredom. Suddenly, Blitzwing rolled by on a shopping cart, standing on the edge of it behind the handle bar as one foot was kicked up cheerfully. Susan chased after him a moment later.

"Whee!" Blitzwing cheered.

"Blitzwing, knock it off!" Susan yelled.

The little boy's eyes widened, but said nothing.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Is that…?"

…

"Is that… what? Finish your sentence, Shockwave."

"Is that… Optimus?"

"Optimus Prime? Duh, that's what he said, didn't he?"

"Did he?"

"I believe the exact words were _'My name is Optimus Prime_.', so, yeah, he said it. Jeez, Shockwave, pay attention."

"I'm sorry, it's just—"

"Chill out, Optimus doesn't exist in this realm, remember?"

"I know! But why are you telling me to chill out?"

"You're shaking…. Holy cow! You're afraid of movie-verse Optimus Prime!"

"Am not!"

"Am too!"

"Am not!"

"Am too!"

"Prove it!"

"Get out from behind the arm chair and stand by the TV!"

"I like it here!"

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Ooh, grooming lubricants!" Blitzwing said, pulling some bottles of shampoo from the shelf.

"Blitzwing, no!" Susan gasped. "Don't! Don't you dare--!"

Blitzwing spotted a certain little boy and his mother coming down the aisle. The mother appeared enraptured in a celebrity gossip magazine. A devilish smirk appeared on his red and black face and the little boy gasped when he saw it. The little boy broke from his mother, who remained standing in the aisle, even as Blitzwing raised the two bottles of shampoo and squeezed them, spraying the woman with shampoo. Susan opened her mouth to scream in shock, then closed it and shook her head when the mother failed to react.

"Dang," Susan muttered. "That's some gossip."

"Boy! Boy!" Blitzwing said to the little boy. "Let's play!"

The little boy grinned, revealing that he had a large gap in his front teeth where one tooth had fallen out, and eagerly took out two bottles of shampoo from the shelves. Susan looked around, making sure no one was coming, then joined grabbed some cans of shampoo, shook them, and whooped as she joined the squirting fight. The trio laughed as they sprayed shampoo and conditioner at one another until the floor was slick with the stuff and empty bottles were all over the floor.

"Timmy," the mother said, still staring into the magazine. "Don't make a scene, now."

With a small push and kick from Blitzwing, Timmy slid by, whooping, on his stomach on the floor.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Praise Primus, Lord Megatron! You're-you're-you're—"

"Use your words and finish your sentence, Shockwave."

"You're… _beautiful!!_"

Shockwave collapsed to his knees in front of the TV, his optic huge and watery, and hugged the screen dramatically. He began speaking softly in Transformer language as, behind him, Mari slowly leaned over to the side, still staring at Shockwave, and brought out a video camera from the shadows beside the couch.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Okay, coast is clear," Susan whispered to her male comrades, peeking out of the restroom area and into the store. "I think the store helpers are done looking for cleaning product-dosed people. Did you get it all out?"

Turning around, she saw a freshly-cleaned Timmy and Hot Head Blitzwing sniffing themselves all over.

"I smell funny," Timmy said. Blitzwing picked the little boy up by the back of the neck as if he were a kitten, sniffed the boy's hair, and set him down all with no dramatics or ceremony.

"That's the cleaning product, sweetie," Susan said. "Now, I think your mother's looking for you."

"One moment," Blitzwing told her. He turned to Timmy and bent over, tapping his large tooth. "Now, remember what I taught you, boy."

"Never let anyone make fun of my teeth!" Timmy replied.

"And if they do?"

"Sock 'em on real hard!"

"Blitzwing!" Susan gasped.

"What?" Blitzwing asked, shrugging and actually smiling. "The boy is learning good lessons for the future!"

"But Mr. Blitzwing," Timmy added. "What kind of socks to I give to 'em? Wool socks? Ankle socks? Stripped socks?"

"On second thought," Hot Head Blitzwing growled, nudging the boy back out into the store. "He's hopeless."

Elsewhere, several Wal-Mart employees turned down the shampoo and conditioner aisle and saw the mess. The only person there was Timmy's mother with a celebrity gossip magazine held to her face in one hand and one incriminating half-empty bottle of shampoo in the other. She blinked and looked up at the employees, then at the magazine, then around at the mess before at the bottle at her hand. Rolling his eyes, she stomped her foot.

"Damnit!" she shouted. "I did it again!"

- - - - - - - - - - -

_Come on_, Mari thought, training the camera on Shockwave. _Any minute now, any minute is when—_

Optimus Prime appeared on screen and Shockwave jumped away from the TV with a loud scream. Mari smirked, catching the reaction on camera, even as Shockwave jumped clear behind the couch and hid there, with only his claws curling over the top of the couch while his antennae drooped miserably. He was shuddering like a phone on vibrate and his optic, now twice its normal size, was staring at the TV as Optimus and Megatron did battle. Mari looked up at him, then picked up the remote and turned the TV off. Shockwave and the girl exchanged looks, him with a dumb "what?" look and her with an annoyed "you are sooo pathetic" look. After a moment, Shockwave cleared his throat and stood tall again, brushing himself off professionally.

"So…" he said, placing his claws on his hips and looking down at the girl. "What shall we do now?"

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Ooh, _this_," Blitzwing ran over to the electronics section. "Enough music to make Soundwave shut the slag up from all that stupid music he keeps playing! Ooh! Ooh! What is this?"

"That's a try out station, also known as a demo station," Susan explained as Blitzwing ran over to a game council set up for Dance, Dance Revolution. "The store sets them up so humans can play demos and previews of games on sale and hope that by starting the game in a demo, the player will buy it in real life. This is Dance, Dance Revolution. Originally, I think, it was an arcade game in Japan, but became a world wide hit when they made it a home video game kind of thing."

Susan started up the game, choosing her song and level of difficulty.

"You choose a song, a level of difficulty, and try stepping on the pad arrows to match the arrows on screen on perfect beat and timing. Watch…"

Thus speaking, Susan started the song and tapped at the arrows on the pad on the floor of the game while her eyes stared at the screen, trying to keep in pace with the song. Eventually, the song ended and she wound up with a C.

"Here, you try. It takes practice to do," Susan explained. "And it's actually harder than it looks because not only do you have to keep yourself in a steady position on the pad to keep from running off of it, but you have to apply the right foot pressure to the proper buttons. Timing is _really_ difficult to master, and lots of people get distracted by the video playing in the background, or the song, or just the pretty colors in—hey! You put it on super hard mode with the _Devil Went Down to Georgia!_"

"You talk too much," Blitzwing said, standing on the dance pad.

"Blitzwing, there is _no way_ you're skilled enough to do _Devil Went Down to Georgia_ on super hard mode," Susan began to object.

"Shut up!" Blitzwing laughed as the song started up.

Arrows flew up on the screen and Blitzwing stood there, feet planted apart and arms across his chest as he watched the arrows fly by. He didn't make so much as a knee twitch to follow the dance. When the song was over, Susan shook her head and spoke sadly.

"I _told_ you, Blitzwing; you're not ready—"

"Shut up! I was learning the dance!" Blitzwing said sternly, going to restart the song. "Now… watch!"

Then the arrows flew up once more and Blitzwing danced with them. Up, down, left, left, left, right, right, up, up, down, down, hold left, hold up, hold left and up. Susan's jaw dropped as Blitzwing easily landed each and every move with perfect timing. Half way through the song, he got confident and began to show off some proper dance moves; a hip shake here, a clap there, and even started doing a cowboy-style high-kick, complete with mimicking holding onto his belt and whooping like a cow boy. Susan failed to notice that her jaw was even open until she realized it was dripping drool all over the floor.

"I take it all back, Blitzwing," Susan said, wiping her mouth. "Shockwave sucks. You're _amazing!"_

The song ended with an up and down hold and Blitzwing stomped down hard, one hand on his hip and the other thrown up in the air with a triumphant whoop. Susan cheered and clapped. Both fell silent, though, when the plastic pad cracked and broke under Blitzwing, sinking him about an inch. Blitzwing looked like a mix of "huh?" and "uh oh" while Susan looked like a 100% genuine "aw, crap!" An error message appeared on screen, even as a celebration cut screen appeared for Blitzwing gaining the high score. The store's intercom system beeped and a bored guy's voice called out over the store.

_"Someone get over to the electronics section; our Dance, Dance Revolution station just gave out. Go make sure no neon-haired dope heads are trying to steal it again, will ya?"_

"Quick, move it!" Susan hissed, grabbing Blitzwing's hand and running into a toy section. "Before we're seen and have to pay for it!"

"_And if there __are__ any neon-haired dope heads there, please inform them for the final time that the colors are __not__ talking to them. That will be all."_ the bored announcer finished.

The intercom system beeped as the bored young man signed off and Blitzwing stared at the toy shelves. Susan was peeking out into the aisle, making sure no one had seen them flee the scene the of the crime. Still staring at the shelves, Blitzwing tugged on Susan's jacket sleeve.

"What?" she asked as she turned around. Then she saw which toy section they were in; the action figure toy section. The shelves were lined with box after box after box of Transformer toys.

"Are these… the toys you spoke about?" Blitzwing asked, turning to a shelf and bringing down an Animated Lug Nut.

"Yes. Yes they are," Susan confirmed.

Blitzwing put back Lug Nut and brought down Animated Shockwave and himself. He grimaced fearfully upon seeing himself then hastily put the toys back… making sure his figure was facing inward. Then he brought down Animated Optimus Prime and Bumblebee. He stared at them for a long moment, and in that moment, Susan thought he was probably finally getting the idea that this was a realm where he was just a toy; he wasn't _supposed_ to exist here. How did it feel, holding a boxed toy version of yourself with in your hand? How did it feel to be holding a miniature copy of your worst enemy in your hand and know that that was the extent of his existence here? That was what Susan thought Blitzwing was thinking…

Until he opened his mouth.

"I want them all!" Blitzwing said happily, hugging the toys to him self.

"_WHAT!?"_ Susan yelled in shock.

"I want them all for my own collection! Look at these, they're so cute! And I want copies, too, for voodoo dolls! Hmm, I wonder if I break Optimus' leg here, will it break his leg back home…"

"Blitzwing, no!" Susan exclaimed. "You can't take any toys because _I'm_ broke and _you're_ broke and we can't steal them. "

"Broke? I'm not broke, I'm perfectly healthy."

"Meaning we don't have the money to buy them. You saw the toys, Blitzwing, now put them back and let's go home before Shockwave rigs Mari's little kid brain to go boom or something…"

"But I want the toys!" Blitzwing cried, holding the toys close.

"You can't _have_ the toys, Blitzwing," Susan growled. "Didn't I tell you? We don't have the _money_."

Blitzwing's lower lip quivered as his red optics became big and moist, putting the puppy dog eyes on Susan.

"Please," Susan snorted, smacking her palm on his non-existent nose. "I _invented_ that look. Now put those toys back and let's go home."

Blitzwing looked at Susan in surprise, then at the toys. He smirked confidently and stood straight. Twin pops sounded out and the toys disappeared. Susan's eyes widened in horror.

"Blitzwing…" she said quietly. "_Where_ did those toys just go?"

"Sub-space!" Blitzwing replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "The Transformer backpack."

"How does that work?"

"A Transformer simply uses his power of sub-space to slip what ever he or she wants into the area around them."

"So you're just going to walk out of here with those toys in your 'Transformer backpack'?"

"Yeap," Blitzwing replied, taking down toy after toy and making them disappear into space with a small pop. "It's where all Transformers put their extra stuff, like their heads, when they transform. It is also how Optimus Prime hides his trailer in the G1 cartoon series you told me about on the way here, and where G1 Cliffjumper stashes his enormous guns, and where Starscream in my realm hides his diary!"

The question Susan _should_ have asked was how he had reasoned about Optimus' truck's trailer and Cliffjumper's guns in a realm he had never seen or been to. Instead, what she _did _ask was…

"Starscream has a diary? What's in it?"

"Plans to take over the world, his _real_ thoughts for Prowl," Blitzwing shrugged. "Stuff like that."

"Prowl…?"

"Starscream likes him like a good team mate; he thinks being with Prowl would make him for successful."

"Oh, thank god… When did you read it?"

"When he had fallen asleep writing in it. There! I have all the toys belonging to my realm, so we may leave now!"

Blitzwing attempted to walk past Susan and out of the aisle, but Susan quickly stopped him by putting her hands on his chest and bracing herself against the floor.

"Oh ho no, no, no, no!" she exclaimed. "You take those toys right back out and put them back on the shelf, young mech!"

"But why?" Blitzwing whined.

"For the last time it's _stealing!"_ she snapped at the Transformer who was easily a head taller than herself. "And I am _not_ going to let you steal on _my_ watch, so put the toys _back_, you triple changing jack-o-lantern!"

Random Blitzwing stared at Susan in surprise for a moment before a clever smirk crossed his black and red face. Susan felt her heart fall into her stomach as her survival instinct began to whimper.

"Susan," Blitzwing purred with deadly softness. He placed a hand on Susan's arm. "Did you know that sub-space can hold organic matter as well?"

"What?" Susan asked.

Then she disappeared with a loud _pop_!


	5. Meet Dad

**Disclaimer: Cartoon Network and Hasbro owns Transformers Animated. I own the story. Any all additional recognizable songs, culture references, et cetera, belong to their rightful owners.**

**Chapter 5: Meet Dad**

"This is preposterous! I have pegged every spot on the board and have yet to sink your battleship!"

"Ever heard of a think called 'lying', Shockwave?" Mari snickered.

Shockwave looked at the little girl over his station of Battleship, then tilted his head to the side curiously as he stood and turned Mari's folding box to himself. Sure enough, every coordinate Shockwave had called out had been pegged, but the white pegs of "not hit" were everywhere… even on the tiny plastic boats. He looked down at the grinning Mari with something like annoyed disgust and complete and utter disbelief that such a little girl would be so vile and evil. It looked like if he could lift his lip in a sneer, he would have, and it all translated to "are you for frigging _real_!?"

"Touché', organic, touché," Shockwave said slowly, sitting back in his own seat.

Mari giggled evilly.

Suddenly, the door opened and Blitzwing strode in with a confident swagger to his stride, approaching Shockwave and Mari where they were playing Battleship on the counter island in the kitchen.

"Where's Susan?" Mari asked.

Blitzwing lifted a hand and snapped his fingers while the other removed the hat from his face.

Susan appeared out of thin air, floating for the quickest of seconds before she fell on the floor, gasping. She began to paw at herself and kick frantically.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, urgh!" she screamed. "That was so weird and obnoxious and unpleasant, like being forced to watch _Snakes on a Plane_! Oh my gosh, eww! Where was I? What was that?"

She turned on Blitzwing.

_"And what the hell was a Starbucks coffee maker employee doing in there!? He's scared, man, scared! Let him out!!"_ Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "That was awful! Eww!! Ack! It feels like spiders are crawling _all over_ me!!"

At that point, her speech dissolved into nonsense, foaming, babble as she collapsed to the floor. It started sounding like she was speaking Latin. (She has a flare for dramatics, like Shockwave, no?)

Mari picked up her hard plastic Battleship box, shaking out the pegs as Susan continued to mimic demon possession, much to the fond amusement of Blitzwing and Shockwave. When Susan sat up, shaking and scratching at her neck in a most dramatic style, Mari closed the plastic box and slammed it upside Susan's head, shutting her up instantly.

"Knock it off, girl, and take it like a woman," Mari said. "What happened?"

Susan jumped to her feet and pointed and accusing finger at Random Blitzwing as he hung the coat and its fedora up on a coat stand as she spoke. Her hair was slightly wild and tangled.

_"He_ stole a bunch of Transformers Animated toys from Wal-Mart and put them and_ me_ in sub-space!"

"Blitzwing!" Shockwave exclaimed, shocked.

"Wal-Mart?" Mari asked. She punched the air and cheered supportively, "Go, Blitzwing!"

"It was the only way we could get out of there without her making a scene!" Blitzwing defended himself.

"No; you should have shot her and stuffed her body in the nearest fast food restaurant's dumpster," Shockwave corrected, waving a hand in dismissal.

"Ooh, you are _so_ evil," Susan hissed.

"Um, hello?" Shockwave asked, tapping a claw to his chest where the Decepticon insignia was with a tiny _tink, tink,_ of metal on metal. "I'm a _Decepticon?"_

"So, Susan, when are your guardians coming back from where ever they are?" Blitzwing asked, sitting at the kitchen counter island and beginning to stack the red and white Battleship pegs.

"Mom's out of town for the weekend and Dad won't be back 'til eight o'clock this evening. Since it's only six in the afternoon that gives us two hours to get you back home or to find you a different place to stay for the night. After that, he'll come home and scream bloody murder about having fictional evil transforming alien robots in his home."

"Oh, you can't make us leave," Shockwave said coyly. "You are our prisoners."

Mari and Susan slowly exchanged looks… then burst out laughing. Shockwave's antennae drooped in dismay as he and Blitzwing exchanged confused glances. They shrugged at each other.

Blitzwing leaned over and whispered behind a hand to Shockwave, "I think that they are crazier than me."

"Agreed," Shockwave replied quietly, nodding as he did. To the girls, "Ladies, you _are_ our prisoners. We are stronger than you, and we can kill you just as easily as we can spare your lives."

Mari snorted and laughed, "Yeah, right!"

"What makes you so confident?" Shockwave demanded.

Susan held up a finger to wait then ran up stairs. Two minutes later, she came back down stairs, a sheet of computer paper in hand. She flipped it over, revealing a freshly printed image on it.

_"This_," she said confidently.

Shockwave looked at the image. He fell out of his chair, covering his optic with his claw as he screamed in pure anguish and horror. The suburbia all around them froze and dozens of people all turned to their blue house in confusion, but no one cared enough to approach.

"My optic! My optic! Oh, Primus, help me! My optic! I must go wash the heinous image from my face! I'll be in the shower!" Shockwave wailed.

Thus screaming, Shockwave stumbled up stairs to the bathroom. Blitzwing, though, tilted his head to the side and brought it closer to the paper as he rubbed his chin.

"Interesting," he said. "Is that Megatron and Shockwave…?"

"Committing slash, yes," Susan confirmed.

"Doing what?" Mari asked, trying to get a look.

Blitzwing's wings shout out from their hiding place in him and Mari ducked them. It kept Mari from seeing the image on the paper.

"Go watch TV, little one," Blitzwing ordered.

Mari pouted, but obeyed her idol as he made himself comfortable on a kitchen stool.

"So, this strange form of art," Blitzwing said. "This _slash_… is there images of Autobots doing it?"

"Prowl and Jazz are the most popular pairings followed by Ratchet and Ironhide."

"Show me."

"Shockwave blocked it on my computer; this was saved under 'Cherry's sick pic'. Cherry's a friend of mine at school and an absolute pervert--"

"I can unblock what Shockwave's done; take me to your data base."

- - - - - - - - - - -

Shockwave came out of the shower half an hour later, his metal body shinning from its second wash that day. He looked exhausted from scrubbing and was passing Susan's room when he noticed Blitzwing and Susan at her computer. Curious, he went in and peeked over their shoulders to see what they were doing.

"Try it with an X between their names," Blitzwing suggested.

Susan installed the X between "Starscream" and "OC" and pressed the **Search** button. The images that came up made Shockwave bolt out of the room with a cry and slam the bathroom door behind him.

"Ooh, print that one!" Blitzwing exclaimed happily, pointing out an image. "And that one! And that one! Ooh, _defiantly_ that one! Ooh, this will make all such good blackmail later on!"

"Won't anyone notice that they're only drawings?" Susan asked as the chosen images were printed out on the paper being spat out of the printer.

"Oh no, no, no!" Blitzwing said, collecting the papers and shuffling them into an even-edged pile. "To me these are perfect photos! After all, these 'drawings' are what people in _my_ world see all the time!"

He made a motion as if he were stuffing the thick stack of papers in side his non-existent shirt, but they disappeared with a small pop noise.

"So in spite of being just fictional images done on someone's pirated copy of Photo Shop… They're good enough to be real photos in your realm?"

"Yes!"

"Oh… sweet!" Susan whooped. She turned to the computer. "I'm going to do an image of a drunk Starscream!"

"Ooh, and have him covered in pink paint!" Blitzwing encouraged. "And a human female on his chest!"

"Won't that make him look like he…?" Susan looked at Blitzwing and narrowed her eyes, but the grin on her face was that of the purest, most evil joy. "Ooh, you're _so_ bad," she snickered.

She turned back to the computer, plugging in some headphones and bringing up her music files.

"Hey, you go watch Mari and try finding out what we should do for when my dad comes home," she instructed. "I'm going to work on this must… _interesting_ photo for the Decepticon tabloids."

"Okey-dokey!" Blitzwing said, flashing the thumbs up before leaving the room.

Twenty minutes later, Blitzwing was playing Patty Cake with Mari in the living room, Susan was still in her room at the computer and Shockwave was still in the shower when the front door was heard being opened.

Foot steps entered the kitchen as a man called out happily, "Girls? I'm home early!"

"Eek! Dad's home early, hide!" Mari hissed, jumping to her feet.

"Why? He's just a human," Random Blitzwing replied, standing up and going to the kitchen to meet Mari and Susan's father. "What can he possibly do?"

"No, no! You don't get it!" Mari exclaimed, following him. "He's a—"

The man in the kitchen was in shape, not being gripped by middle age's out of shape curse, and looked rather trim and even attractive and young in his dark blue uniform. The uniform's cap was set on his golden curls and his blue eyes widened in shock upon seeing Blitzwing enter the room. The silver badge on his right breast flashed in the kitchen light as he drew his gun from its holster and aimed it at Blitzwing.

"What the--!?" he shouted, then pulled the trigger twice.

Blitzwing whooped in confusion and ducked the shots, letting them shatter some decorative china on top of the cupboards.

"A cop," Mari groaned, staying in the door way. She covered his face with her palm and shook her head. "And a _good_ cop, at that."

"What's going on down here?" Shockwave asked, coming down the stairs quickly. Around his waist as a mint green towel. Around his head, wrapped turban-style was a lime green towel with green birdies on it. When the gun was pointed to him, he raised his hands and shouted, "Woha, hold it right there!"

All three adult males began yelling incoherently at each other with Mari and Susan's father shooting interchangeably at the two Decepticons. The Decepticons' voices rose as they tried to talk him out of his shooting rampage, but that wasn't very good at it, considering his aim was _dead on_ and they had to frequently duck to avoid loosing their optics to his bullets. Mari joined the shouting match, trying to tell her dad that she was okay. It wasn't working.

"_I just wanna scream and loose controooool! Throw my hands up and let it gooooo! Forget about every thing and run awaaa-heey! Yeeea-hah!"_

Everyone fell silent and looked to the stairs as Susan started singing the lyrics of _Runaway _by Avril Lavigne at the top of her lungs. Okay, _singing_ would be a lie. _Shouting_ would be an understatement. _Caterwauling_ would be understating it. Perhaps, oh, _screeching_ the words would be better? How about "the ungodly sound would be too awful for even the worst voices in the darkest pits in the vilest torture chambers of hell to put up with, and the Devil himself would strike down that which broke the laws of physics and All That Is by emitting that heinous excuse of a singing voice"?

What ever, that girl _sucked_ at singing.

"Should I, um…" Shockwave asked nervously, motioning a shooting gesture.

Susan's father shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, going to the stairs.

"No, no, I'll get it," he said.

He was gone for a moment, politely knocking on Susan's door and telling her to use her inside voice for singing before rejoining everyone in the kitchen. He looked from Blitzwing, to Shockwave, and back to either one several times before walking over to Blitzwing and holding out a hand.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Edward Walker, Susan's and Mari's father. And you are…?"

"Blitzwing," Random Blitzwing answered, shaking the hand with an enormous, friendly grin. "And the boy with birdies around his head is Shockwave!"

Embarrassed, Shockwave pulled the towels from himself and tossed them on the kitchen counter and held a still warm and damp claw out to Edward to shake, which he did hesitantly.

"Pleasure to meet you," the British-voiced robot said.

"Um," Mr. Walker said, coughing as he carefully shook the claws. "N-Nice t-to meet you too, M-Mr. S-Shockwave and-and B-B-B-B-B-B--oh god, Mari, aren't these guys apart of that TV show you and Susan love so much?"

"Mmhmm!" Mari confirmed, nodding eagerly.

"Oh, ho, well, ah ha, that's nice," Mr. Walker said, smiling nervously.

Then he fell backwards in a dead faint.


	6. Drinking Buddies

**Disclaimer: Cartoon Network and Hasbro owns Transformers Animated. I own the story. Any all additional recognizable songs, culture references, et cetera, belong to their rightful owners.**

**Chapter 6: Drinking Buddies**

"Oh my god, you killed my daddy!"

"I did no such thing… _Blitzwing_ killed him!" Shockwave objected.

"Hey!" Blitzwing whined, "Do not blame the black-faced jack-o-lantern man! I am as sweet as an angelic kitten!"

"Kittens are not angelic," Mari stated matter-of-factly. "They are demonic entities that only wish to enslave us all and take over the world."

"Hmm, do you think Lord Megatron could make an alliance with this force of ferocious fur creatures?" Shockwave inquired.

"Maybe, but the cats will betray you and make you their toy. It is inevitable."

A moment of silence followed this statement.

"Yeah," Random Blitzwing said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I'm going to pretend that we did not have this conversation."

The two Decepticons and young girl were kneeling around the prone form of Mari's father, Mr. Walker. When they had last tried consulting Sarah about reviving him, Shockwave had seen that she was reading a genre of Transformer fan fiction called "kitty-formers" online. He had read the story over her shoulder before promptly locking her inside her room and promising to let out her out only when she had deleted such "queer, disgustingly adorable trash" from her computer.

"I hear that humans wake up when exposed to pain," Shockwave said, pointing up to show off one sharp claw. "Perhaps it would be of service for me to produce the pain?"

"Nein," Blitzwing objected. "Let's set him on fire!"

"But that'll seriously hurt him," Mari pointed out.

"So? It would be fun!" Blitzwing whooped. "And all he'd have to do was stop, drop, and roll, like this!"

In demonstration, Blitzwing flung himself backwards, his jet wings folding into his sides, and began to roll around and around on the floor.

"Whee!" he cheered. "I'm a barrel! I'm a trashcan! I'm a barrel! I'm a trashcan!"

"You're a loony bin," Mari stated, eye brows dropping in a "you have _got_ to be kidding me" face.

"I believe that he's waking up," Shockwave suggested, leaning over Mr. Walker.

Mr. Walker opened his eyes, saw Shockwave staring directly into his face, and sat up with a shout. He sat up a little _too_ fast, though, and wound up colliding foreheads with Shockwave. The knock dispelled Mr. Walker's terror as man and mech sat back and rubbed their heads, groaning in pain. Behind them, Blitzwing rolled by and into the kitchen, continuing his mimicking of a trashcan/barrel rolling down an imaginary hill.

"Dad," Mari said. "Meet Shockwave, a Decepticon from Transformers Animated; a cartoon show that Sarah and I watch. The nut case rolling around on the floor is Blitzwing. Both of them are Decepticons from an alternate universe and have been accidentally been dropped off here due to an accidental technological glitch. Sarah and I have been taking care of them."

"That's nice, honey," Mr. Walker responded tiredly. "Where's the aspirin? Daddy has a headache."

"We're out," Mari stated.

Mr. Walker looked at Mari then slowly turned his eyes to the ceiling. He made claw-like shapes with his hands as he silently mouthed a "why me?" to the heavens. Sighing, he rubbed his temples.

"Sweetie, what time is it?" he asked Mari.

"It's going on eight," Mari replied.

"Go to bed early, sweetie, and don't come down again until morning. I'll double your allowance this week."

"Whoopee!" Mari cheered, shooting up the stairs and to her room eagerly.

"So," Shockwave said seriously, following Mr. Walker into the kitchen. "Do you wish to speak of serious matters, such as what it will take to ensure the safety of your daughters?"

Mr. Walker stepped over Random Blitzwing (still rolling on the floor), and bent down to take something from a lower shelf in the fridge.

"Nope," Mr. Walker stated.

Behind him, Shockwave's shoulders and antennae drooped in dismay at the lack of dramatics. Blitzwing sat up beside him, giggling and swaying slightly. When Mr. Walker next stood and turned to the robots, he had a large bottle of wine in one hand and some beer in the other.

"I just wanna get drunk," Mr. Walker stated.

Soundwave harrumphed and crossed his arms across his chest, looking away in smug disgust.

He said, "Your organic juices can not _possibly_—"

"Ooh! Beer!" Blitzwing cheered, jumping to his feet and snatching a can from Mr. Walker's hand.

**Three Hours Later**

Mr. Walker attempted to carefully stack yet another empty beer can on top of the pyramid that had accumulated on the kitchen counter island, but his unsteady hand dropped the can before knocking the pyramid over. Blitzwing's own hand pawed at the fallen cans before picking one up, bringing it to his mouth, and biting into it.

"You know what I always hated?" Shockwave said. His voice was clearly slurred, and he leaned against Walker, one arm around the human's neck while the other held up a bottle of wine. "I've always just-I've always just _hated_ how the damn ass hole, Mega-_jerk_, left-left-_left _me on Cybertron like-like some sorta low-down t-t-_tool_ that he didn't care about while he-he took Starscream and-and had _all_ the fun on Earth. W-What does Starscream have that I don't to be second-in-command, huh? I-I mean, is that all I am? Is that all I am, Eddy, a-a-a-a t--_tool?_"

He slammed the bottle on the counter, but it fell over onto its side. No liquid was left to dribble out of it. He tried another dramatic gesture again and this time succeeded in smashing a fist onto the counter, crumbling a corner of the island.

"What does _he_ have--!" Shockwave began to shout.

"Hey, hey, man," Mr. Walker muttered, sprawling across the counter to try and put the broken counter pieces back together. "Don't-don't do that, man, that's not cool, man, not cool…"

Blitzwing opened his mouth up wide and bit into another beer can while the other hand propped his head off; he looked bored. He chewed as he impassively watched Shockwave pat Walker on the head while the human continued to be sprawled on the counter in front of him.

"Shockwave," Blitzwing, his drunk voice becoming astonishingly American. "You _are_ a tool for letting yourself be used like that."

Swallowing loudly, Random gave way to Hot Head Blitzwing, who proceeded to begin crying. He dropped his head to the counter and covered it as he broke out into bawls.

"All-All I ever wanted was someone to love me!" Hot Head Blitzwing cried.

"Can you find someone to _love_ me," Mr. Walker sang, quoting the Queen track.

As he continued singing, he rolled over and right off the counter, hitting the floor hard, but appearing too drunk to acknowledge the impact. Shockwave tried leaning back to avoid Walker, but wound up falling flat on his back on the floor beside Walker. Thus positioned, Shockwave joined the song. I don't even need to mention the words; ya'll know 'em.

**Ten minutes later…**

All three men were on the floor, sitting up against the now-ruined kitchen counter isle. Mr. Walker sat between the two mechs, beer in hand. Hot Head Blitzwing was on his right, holding a half-eaten beer can, which he bit out of now and then like it was a really big potato chip. Shockwave was on Walker's left, wine bottle in claw. Each held their beverage aloft in one hand while having an arm around their comrades, sitting amongst empty beer cans and shattered marble counter top, they swayed back and forth in time… and sang.

"I get knocked down, but I get up again. You're never gonna keep me down. I get knocked down, but I get up again, You're never gonna keep me down..."

"Hey!" Hot Head Blitzwing whooped. "Let's get a tattoo!"

"Sure," Mr. Walker yawned. Then he fell back in an unconscious state against Shockwave.


	7. When Fan Girls Attack

**Disclaimer: Cartoon Network and Hasbro owns Transformers Animated. I own the story. Any all additional recognizable songs, culture references, et cetera, belong to their rightful owners.**

**Chapter 7: When Fan Girls Attack**

The next day, all three men awoke with enormous headaches and sore bodies. Looking around, Mr. Walker was amazed, but, oddly enough, not very horrified to see that the kitchen had been destroyed some time in the night before: Beer cans lay every where, the remains of shot-out china littered the floor, and half the kitchen island was gone with the remains covered in mysterious black soot (look at Blitzwing). The three men had some how managed to make it to the living room. Now Shockwave was lying upside down on the couch with his legs thrown over the back of it and Random Blitzwing was curled up in the corner, surrounded by many balls of yarn. A giant tangled ball of the stuff was wrapping around Blitzwing's hands and acted as his pillow. Graffiitti covered the walls and _all_ the spray cans were around Blitzwing and some of their contents had clearly stained his hands.

Mr. Walker himself realized that at some point in the night, he had switched into jeans, a white collared shirt, and blue flip flops (his wife's, he could see). A white face mask was dangling from his neck; had it been forced on him when the spray paint began flying? He saw a bandage on his arm and peeled it off, revealing a fresh tattoo on his left bicep in the form of a bleeding Decepticon symbol. Ripping the entire bandage off revealed, in tiny writing, under the Con symbol was a tiny note:

_(Lol, just kidding. I'm urs 4ever, Walker. 3 BW)_

"Oh my god," Walker said.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Somewhere, in some tattoo parlor, there is a muscular man with a large beard in a black leather vest with a handkerchief around his head. He is sitting in his parlor, tattoo tools in hand while he continues to stare out the window in a shocked trance for the fifth hour in a row. Finally, he slowly begins to tilt in his seat.

"Holy f***ing bloody robots…" he whispers.

Then he falls off his stool in a dead faint.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Oy," Shockwave groaned as he woke up, dropped his legs down, and sat up on the couch. "What happened?"

He looked around at the scene, then at his right claw, drawing fact that he was holding the home phone. He froze and his antennae stood straight up in horror. Blitzwing yawned and sat up, trying to rub his optics, but the yarn bound his hands together. He looked at his hands, around, then at Shockwave. He noticed the phone and grinned.

"Ooh, did we prank call anyone important?" he asked.

"I don't know," Shockwave whispered.

"Well, we defiantly went _out_, look at this!" Walker exclaimed, showing the tattoo. "Blitzwing, did you have anything to do with this?"

"Well, you were unconscious and Shockwave was smashed, so," Blitzwing shrugged apathetically. "I had a little fun."

"A little _fun_!?" Walker yelled, climbing to his feet, in spite of the spinning room and hang over. "You call kidnapping me and taking me out for a tattoo _a little fun_!?"

"Oww, oww, oww," Blitzwing whimpered, flinching, "Lower the noise level. You sound like Megatron when he's yelling through Soundwave's speaker systems…"

"Oh Primus!" Shockwave exclaimed, jumping to his feet as he dropped the phone." We drunk dialed! We drunk dialed! We drunk dialed!"

Panic seized the other mech and human, making them jump to their feet and begin shouting incoherently plans of escape and evasive action, all of which ended in running away to Mexico.

Drunk dialing; when alcohol has made you immune to things like fear and reasoning, as well as the ability to drive or operate one's body safely, it also makes you the biggest idiot on the planet. Hence, when given a phone and upon the off chance that, while you may not be able to touch your nose with your finger, but the said finger may dial a number, things go south fast. You'll call your boss and tell him what you think about his more-work-less-play idea. You'll call your mother and tell her what an ugly, mean old cow she is. You'll call an _ex_ and totally break down on her, begging for her to come back because you still have feelings for her. Either that, or you'll wind up telling her what a hoe she is and how you want to tap it anyway all that jazz, hence winding up in a restraining order and _a lot _of lawyers. Or how about even calling official federal numbers and feeding them false info on criminals they're looking for? Or, even _worse_, calling a law enforcer and telling them what _really_ happened the night you got shot going night hunting, and where the local pot is grown.

In short: Drunken dialing is you screwing yourself up and over the rainbow.

"What do we do? What do we do? What do we do???" Shockwave asked quickly, looking around nervously in uncharacteristic confusion.

"Just-just calm down," Walker said, putting his hands out, "If we just _calm down_ and remember who we dialed—"

"We went on the computer, looked up every Transformer fan with in ten miles of here, and told them to come over," Blitzwing stated.

Shockwave and Walker slowly turned towards him and stared.

"What?" Blitzwing asked, raising his bound hands innocently, "They were cute and some of them were friendly!"

Shockwave and Walker looked at each other.

"We have _got_ to get you back to your world," Walker said.

"Agreed," Shockwave stated.

"Okay, we can get Mari to fix this," Walker said.

"Mari!?" Shockwave exclaimed. He put a hand just below waist level. "The _little_-little one?"

"She's smart with these kind of things," Walter replied.

"That's some girl," Blitzwing said while he stared at his hands as he pulled at them, trying to free them from their bonds.

The door bell rang then and Walker made his way to the front door.

"I'll see who that is," he said, "You guys stay out of sight."

Walker rubbed his face, silently and distantly comparing the sensation in his head to the destroyed kitchen island counter as he opened the front door. What he saw outside made his brain, literally, shut down.

Fan girls. Dozens and dozens, perhaps hundreds, of fan girls were on his front door step, on the porch, on his front lawn, and in the street. The noise on the porch roof said that they were there, too, waiting to pounce like panthers. All of them were wearing some Decepticon apparel and some were holding Transformer toys with them. All of them looked at him, like a herd of animals recognizing the existence of a human near by. Then they all smiled at him, all flashing closed-mouth, friendly smiles that said "hi, I'm polite, good, and orderly. May I get to that man behind you and do things to him while you obliviously make tea in the kitchen?".

He slammed the door shut in their faces.

"Run, run, run, run, run, _run_!!" Walker yelled, shooting back into the living room like the Devil himself as after him.

"What? Why?" Shockwave asked, looking up from where he was trying to get the yarn off of Blitzwing's hands.

The door crashed open then and the enormous scream of fan girls (we'll assume that a "scream" is the proper word for multiple fan girls) poured into the house, ignoring the trashed kitchen. Their eyes lit up and they stopped short with they saw the two Decepticons. A moment of awed silence followed. Something in Shockwave started warning him to retreat to some place high, secluded, and preferably surrounded by poisonous thorns and rabid animals. Something in Blitzwing said he should have some chocolate gingerbread cookies. No, wait, something along the lines of "run, run, run, as fast as you can…"

As one, the girls screamed and _pounced_ forward. They knocked Walker to the floor as the tidal wave of Decepticon fan apparel, girls, and teenage energy and hormones washed over him on its way to the Decepticons.

Shockwave and Blitzwing suddenly realized the danger they were in and screamed in unison. Shockwave seized up a chair and held it, legs out, to the girls. Blitzwing yanked on his wrists and the yarn finally snapped, falling away from his wrists as he raised his fists in a fighting gesture.

"Back!" he yelled, shoving the chair at them. "Back, I say, back! Back ye foul beasts!"

"Actually," Blitzwing said. "They smell rather nice—"

Shockwave turned to Blitzwing and seized the front of the schizophrenic in one claw while the other kept holding up the chair.

"_SHUT UP AND GET US THE SLAG OUT OF HERE!!!" _he roared.

The fan girl crowd surged forward again and Shockwave jumped back, crying out in surprise. Blitzwing seized Shockwave and jumped out the window, shattering glass as he did. The two Decepticons landed in a mound of metal right outside the house exactly where they had landed the day before. The chair Shockwave had been using as his shield against the fan girls and the horrors that they would make him suffer (like autographs, interviews, pictures, et cetera), slipped out of his hands and bonked Blitzwing on the head.

"Ooh, look!" Random Blitzwing giggled, "I see all the pretty little rainbow stars!"

Suddenly, his face changed into that of the blue-tinged Cold Blitzwing. He blinked, then sighed and rubbed his head as he glared up at Shockwave, who was sitting on him.

"Honestly," he growled. "You couldn't have _tried_ finding a way home yourself?"

"Just get us home!!" Shockwave yelped, watching as fan girls closed in on all sides. "Before all is lost!"

"Okay, okay," Cold Blitzwing muttered, drawing a device from his belt. "No need for dramatics…"

Blitzwing pressed a couple of buttons on the device and a purple portal appeared right below them. Random Blitzwing replaced Cold as Shockwave looked down into the portal.

"Going down," Random giggled.

He and a screaming Shockwave fell into the portal, which closed up immediately behind them. The fan girls, who had been inches away from getting their hands on their idols, all fell silent and still, staring dumbly at the space of grass and abandoned chair where the robots had been. After a long, awkward pause, people began coughing and shuffling nervously. A girl jumping from the roof in a preemptive over-head attack screamed before doing a face-plant in the grass. Everyone stared at her, but she mutely raised a hand baring the thumbs up sign and no one ventured into her situation.

"Now what?" one girl asked.

"Well, ladies," Walker said, appearing in the shattered window. One eye was black, he was cut and bruised in several places, and his shirt had been torn to hell. "I won't tell anyone about this on three conditions. First, I won't tell if you won't…"

And that was how the Walker girls got free rides to college and Mrs. Walker came home to a renovated kitchen and living room.

* * *

**A little while later in the Transformers Animated universe…**

"Man, Prowl, that was some party last night," Jazz chuckled as he and the black ninja-bot entered the Autobot recreation room. "You know, you're pretty cool and laid-back when you're drunk."

"I was not drunk I was only mildly tipsy," Prowl stated to the blue and white mech.

"Yeah, sure," Jazz laughed at the British-accented mech. "Then how come you can't remember anything more than I do?"

"I must have… hit my head during some point amidst the dancing," Prowl stated stiffly.

"Yeah," Jazz chuckled."Yeah, and I'm the— Hey, what's this?"

Jazz picked up a picture that had been left on a table. He looked at it, then his face fell in horror. Prowl looked at Jazz curiously, then over his friend's shoulder.

- - - - - - - - -

Miles away, Shockwave and Cold Blitzwing were attending computers at the Decepticon base when a scream of pure horror entered their room from a far off. Without looking from their computers, they exchanged high fives.

**The End**


End file.
